


(Rotten) Oranges

by MeltedIceAngel



Series: Seven Down [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse, Arguing, Framing, Guilt, He doesn't hate Jisung, IT DOESN'T HAPPEN, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jisung and Chenle are married, Jisung blames himself for everything, M/M, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Panic, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Protective Park Jisung (NCT), Renjun has survivor's guilt, Survivor Guilt, Time Skips, Zombie Apocalypse, but it's mentioned, i think, renjun needs a hug, smut mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltedIceAngel/pseuds/MeltedIceAngel
Summary: Jisung talked a big game about keeping their humanity, sacrificing one for the good of the whole. How they’d be nothing without empathy and love for those that crossed their paths. He offered food and shelter to stragglers despite the dangers, allowed his group to shoulder their burdens onto him, and sometimes lost sleep just to help them through night terrors and pain caused by dead and living.It was overcompensation for what he’d done to keep Chenle alive the first day the virus spread.Or; Five times Jisung sacrificed someone for Chenle, and the one time Jisung was the one sacrificed.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Series: Seven Down [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1471172
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	(Rotten) Oranges

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this took months. I actually got really lost in how to write the +1, because I didn't want any major deaths but it was hard to avoid. Luckily, I got away with no Dream deaths, and no on screen NCT deaths, so I'm pleased. I want to elaborate more on Chenle and Jisung in the future, because I got into aspects of their relationship I really enjoy writing about. If any of you aren't sick of zombie AU Chensung, let me know. Thank you so much for supporting this series. 
> 
> I would like to make this clear beforehand: Renjun is supposed to sound "crazed" or off. Jisung is as well. I want everyone coming into this story without reading the past two that this is somewhere between ten-fifteen YEARS after the outbreak happened, and they have been through a lot. I tried my best to keep their character development making sense without a whole lot of exposition, but it was hard. I hope you understand, and if you need more clarification or want side stories, let me know. 
> 
> THIS IS PART OF A SERIES. PLEASE READ THE PAST TWO BEFORE ATTEMPTING TO READ THIS ONE. IT REQUIRES PAST KNOWLEDGE.

1.

Jisung had been lying to himself for a long time.

He put up a good front on most days. He was surprised that his group hadn’t figured him out earlier. Even two years later, only a few weeks after Renjun had nearly died, only Jaemin had managed to put the pieces together. They’d formed an uneasy relationship over that time, both fully aware that their motivations were contrasting. 

Jisung would do anything to keep Chenle alive, and Jaemin would do anything to keep Renjun alive. Even at the cost of the other group members. 

Jisung talked a big game about keeping their humanity, sacrificing one for the good of the whole. How they’d be nothing without empathy and love for those that crossed their paths. He offered food and shelter to stragglers despite the dangers, allowed his group to shoulder their burdens onto him, and sometimes lost sleep just to help them through night terrors and pain caused by dead and living. 

It was overcompensation for what he’d done to keep Chenle alive the first day the virus spread. 

They’d been walking down a relatively quiet street when it started. The sound of screaming bouncing off buildings and into their ears, loud and desperate. Chenle had shrunk so small, his hand clutching Jisung’s like a lifeline as they watched people run past the intersection they paused just shy of. 

A man ran wide-eyed onto the street, shoving Chenle and Jisung back while yelling for them to run. They had paused too long, just enough time for something oddly inhuman to charge full speed at them from the main street. Chenle screamed, both of them stumbling as the thing screamed back at the sight of them.

Jisung was terrified. All he could focus on was the sound of pounding feet, and gargling screams behind him. He and Chenle were fast, but not fast enough. The thing was going to catch up to them if he didn’t do anything. 

The man from earlier was running beside them, his breath coming in short gasps and wheezes. Jisung saw it as they rounded a corner, a bloody spot on his arm covered messily by his right hand. He’d been attacked. The thing behind him had bloody teeth.

He made the decision just as the thing grabbed Chenle’s hoodie, pulling him back and throwing him onto the concrete. Chenle screamed, his hands fighting to keep the thing’s bloody, spit covered mouth away from his face. Without much thought, Jisung tripped the man running beside him and made as much noise as possible. The thing turned away from Chenle, splattering his face with red saliva as it roared.

“No!” The man yelled as Jisung grabbed Chenle and shoved him into a sprint, leaving the man to struggle to his feet behind them. It gave them the perfect amount of leeway to make it back onto the main street, their bodies disappearing with the rest of the crowd. 

Jisung didn’t know if the dead had caught the man. It had seemed stunned when Chenle was pulled away, and the man had gotten back to his feet before the dead regained its bearings. 

What did that make Jisung? That man was as good as dead. He hadn’t known it at the time, but that bite would’ve soon festered and turned him anyway. 

Regardless of his impending doom, he didn’t deserve to die the death Jisung had witnessed only once since the virus spread. Nonetheless, Jisung knew he’d do it again. 

2.

Jisung cried a lot. 

He tried to make himself seem like a strong, capable leader, but the second he lost control, he was a mess. 

Early on, Jisung felt the weight of being the youngest hit him harder than he ever had living his idol life. He felt so much younger than his group, with too little experience and not enough power in his gangly teenage limbs. He’d saved Chenle using dumb luck and that small pit of something deep in his heart. When speaking of other people doing the same, he called it evil. 

That little pit of evil fueled by the need to keep Chenle right next to him.

The second time he came face to face with the devil buried in his soul was the day Chenle fell out of that tree. He’d screamed, tried to throw himself down to get to him, but Mark had grabbed him before he could do anything. Jisung had been hysterical, thoughts flying through his head begging for it to be anyone but Chenle. 

Even if it was Renjun who was lying still next to him. 

He’d been so hysterical that Mark had covered his mouth, pressing so hard he couldn’t breathe. Mark apologized over and over as Jisung lost his grip on consciousness, his body falling limp on a tree branch not much more stable than the one Renjun and Chenle had been standing on. 

“The fuck was that?” Donghyuck had asked.

“He was too loud,” Mark responded guiltily, his eyes shedding tears for the boy who would’ve let him die just to save the one on the ground. 

“ _Jaemin!?_ ” Someone said just as the man jumped down, throwing his own body over Chenle and Renjun as three dead ran screaming toward them.

3\. 

Jisung lamented the loss of Ten and Yukhei, but it paled in comparison to his relief at having Chenle lying next to him that night. His back had turned black and blue, and he’d yet to awaken again, but it didn’t matter. He was alive.

He thought that maybe if he agreed to house stragglers in their house in Daegu, it would make up for the death of the man and his two friends. If he could save three people, he repaid his debt.

The third time he’d watched Chenle side-swipe death had been when a child stabbed him through the stomach, eyes hardened and uncaring. Chenle’s blood ran down her little, dirt-covered hand, and all he could do was shed a tear for the lost child in front of him.

Jaemin had been on the roof that day, gun held poised to shoot the woman and man standing behind the child. Just enough to incapacitate, not kill, he reminded himself. He hadn’t expected another man to follow him, nor did he expect the man to throw him off the roof without so much a flinch. 

Jaemin hit the ground, and the man was dead, all within a few seconds of the other. Renjun had run to catch him while Jeno pulled his gun out and fired once, twice, three times, hitting his mark only on the third try. Jisung hadn’t even looked up, his focus solely on Chenle as the girl pulled the knife out of his stomach, and he collapsed. 

Jisung held him as he shook, his hand pressed desperately on the leaking wound. Chenle smiled at him as the elder pulled his gun out of its holster with shaking hands, cocking it and pointing it at the man standing over them. Jisung shook his head, begging Chenle to not become like him, but the other didn’t listen. He shot the man once in the stomach before moving the gun down toward the woman beside him.

“Leave.” Chenle groaned, and the girl and her mother ran. They took the food and supplies they’d stolen, but Chenle hadn’t asked them to drop anything. He let them go. 

“Chenle.” Jisung cried in disbelief.

“He’s not dead,” Chenle argued, nodding his head at the man rolling around on the ground. “It was their choice not to take him.” And Chenle was still Jisung’s innocent boyfriend even after that. Even after he shot the father of the girl who stabbed him, Chenle was still innocent, because they had stabbed him first. Chenle had defended himself.

Renjun was yelling for help from where Jaemin was laying, leg bent ninety-degrees and head bloody. Renjun’s arm was hanging limp at his side, broken from the force of Jaemin collapsing on top of him. Jisung could feel Renjun’s despair, but he couldn’t move from Chenle’s side. 

4\. 

Jisung started to accept his shortfall when Renjun died, came back, and died again. No matter how many times Chenle begged Jisung to think of Renjun instead of him, the youngest could only hum his agreement with crossed fingers behind his back. 

He cared for his group, but as time wore him down, he stopped pretending that he didn’t rank them lower than Chenle in value. It caused fights. Real, nasty fights that the two youths had never gotten close to before, and still nothing was changing Jisung’s point of view. 

Even when Chenle shouted at him that Renjun could have died because he’d had a lapse in judgment, nothing changed. Jisung had tried to argue that Mark could have picked the AED up and brought it upstairs, but that just led to the elder screaming in frustration and running out of the room. 

“Park Jisung, don’t come near me unless you’ve actually thought about what we’ve been talking about,” Chenle hissed at him that night, eyes red and watery. Jaemin had been the one to soothe Chenle through his fits of crying despite Renjun sleeping upstairs. He’d asked someone else to step in for him, just to make sure Chenle was okay.

Jisung never pegged himself as a good man, and there was no doubt that Jaemin was better than him. If he had been a few months younger, maybe he would’ve felt guilty about his stance still not wavering. 

“I did think,” Jisung said, trying to school his features into those more remorseful. 

“You think I don’t know you better?” Chenle ground out, more tears falling. “You think I can’t tell when you’re bullshitting me? Do you really think that little of me?” Jisung stepped back at that, his heart beating frantically in his chest.

“I would never think little of you,” Jisung said, breathless with his disbelief. 

“Then why the fuck are you lying to me?” Chenle stood up, the shorter man standing chest to chest with Jisung. The taller could feel the fury radiating off his boyfriend, his body shaking and teeth grinding audibly. 

“Because you won’t accept it!” Jisung, for the first time, shouted back. He knew he’d never make Chenle see his side of things, but he’d held onto his anger long enough. If Chenle wanted to fight, then they might as well fight.

“No, Park, I can’t accept that you would just throw all of our friends to the dead! Our family!” Chenle shouted, wiping his tears away angrily. 

“What do they matter, Chenle?” Jisung shouted back. His boyfriend’s mouth fell open. 

“Are you kidding? All the shit they did for you growing up, and you’d just let them die,” Chenle sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“If it meant you staying safe?” Jisung said.

“Stop playing the hero card. You know I can take care of myself,” Chenle bit. Jisung coughed out a laugh.

“I know you can. You preach about listening and communication, but you just don’t seem to get it, Chenle,” Jisung said. Chenle pulled his hands up to his hips, nodding as if telling the other to continue. “You are the only thing non-dispensable to me. I’m sorry, but you’re not. I can’t live without you, so if anyone is going to live, it’s going to be you.”

“What then?” Chenle asked, his voice thick and breaking. “I have to live without Renjun? Or Jaemin? I already have to live without Yukhei and Ten.” 

“If I can keep them next to you, I will,” Jisung admits. Chenle stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher what exactly the younger meant by that statement. 

“Then why don’t you try?” Chenle asked.

“Because I’m--” Jisung waved his hand around, trying to find the words trapped in the thick air surrounding them. What was he? Evil? Selfish? 

“Jisung,” Chenle said, cutting the other off. “You’re non-dispensable to me, too. I can’t live without you. If I had the choice, I would save you, I have no doubt. There’s a big divide between that and what you’re doing, though. You need to listen to me and listen really, really well, or I don’t know how we’re going to fix this.” Chenle said, shoving Jisung down onto their shared bed. 

“Chenle--” 

“No, I’m talking now,” Chenle said, putting his hand over Jisung’s mouth. “I would choose you if I had to. You are picking me when you don’t have to. I’m okay. Scars and bruises are no reason for you to choose me over Renjun. He had died over and over while you were gone. You should have brought the AED upstairs. 

“I’m okay because Renjun is. If he hadn’t been, then you being there wouldn’t have helped.” Chenle paused, taking the time to let what he said sink in. 

“But I went, didn’t I?” Jisung choked, thinking about how desperate he’d been to stay with Chenle. 

“You did. I’m so glad you did, but it almost was for nothing. You can’t lose sight of things because I’m there,” Chenle said, brushing a stray tear off Jisung’s face. He felt guilty, despite his recent acceptance of his major character flaw. He spent so many years trying to fix what he’d broken, and in the end, he’d done nothing but make it worse.

He’d broken it so bad that even Chenle didn’t know how they’d fix it. He thought about all the people he’d tried to help, all the food and water they’d given away, all the disgusting, vile men and women they’d let roam free all because he tried to repay his debts. Had he been going about it the wrong way the entire time?

Maybe he should have focused more on what was in front of him. If he hadn’t opened their doors in the first place, Chenle would have never been stabbed. He would have never been shot, and he wouldn’t have shot that man. Jaemin would still be walking, Renjun would still be tending his garden, and Jeno would be carving his arrows and practicing his archery.

Jisung felt suddenly sick, his upper body lurching with sudden nausea. Chenle jumped forward, wrapping his thin arms around Jisung as he swayed. 

God, he was so fucking _stupid_. All that they’d gone through because he was trying to fix what he’d done to that man. That stranger. What did it even matter? He’d done it to save Chenle, just like he shot that family to save him. He didn’t grovel over them. 

He almost let _Renjun die._

Jisung heaved once, vomit spilling over himself and the shorter man next to him. Chenle hardly flinched, his hold not wavering. “No, no. I knew I was wrong, but--I didn’t mean for it to be like this.” Jisung cried, grabbing the other’s wrist in a vice-like grip. He felt as if he was floating, that if he let go of Chenle, he’d lose the last of his hold on the world around him. 

“Sungie, stay with me. You’ve been gone for so long, I need you back here with me,” Chenle said, burying his dirtied black hair into Jisung’s neck. “I don’t know where you’ve been, but I need you here. Jaemin, Jeno, and Renjun need you here.” Jisung sobbed, thinking of all the time he lost. All the mistakes he made.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Jisung cried, cringing as his and Chenle’s shirts unstuck themselves from where he’d thrown up. 

“Start now. That’s the best we can do,” Chenle said, his lips curling up at the edges. 

5.

When Jisung heard the sound of metal colliding with bone and the resulting grunt of pain, he was already loaded. A body hit the ground, followed by snickers and shuffling as whoever it was raided pockets and bags. Jisung bristled, his finger settled on the trigger as he slowly peeked around the corner. His boots crunched over loose gravel, alerting one of the bandits to his presence.

Jisung was unsurprised to see three overly large men, somehow still fattened up despite the scarcity of food in the area. He cataloged the information, deciding quickly to be more careful in case the bandits were well equipped and good at their job. 

“There’s someone here,” One of the men said, gravely as if rocks were embedded in his teeth. Jisung held his breath, pulling his limbs as close to his center as space would allow. He knew who was lying at their feet, and he couldn’t risk being seen. 

“What’s it matter? We’re done anyway. Let’s go,” Another voice said, higher-pitched than the last. Both men grumbled a response, the gravel loosening under their feet as they began to walk away. Jisung waited, biding his time before he could peek around the corner without being seen. 

Chenle lay face down, eyes closed and face lax. There were no apparent signs of abuse on his skin, but the mud caking his outfit was proof enough. His bag was open, contents spilled out around his prone figure. Jisung could see empty water bottles, tissue paper, a fire-starter, and several pairs of shoelaces in the dirt. They’d only taken his food and water, then.

Once the men were out of sight, Jisung charged forward, his knees scraping raw as he fell beside Chenle. “Chenle? Wake up, come on, we have to get out of here,” Jisung called. When Jisung detected no movements, he changed his focus. He’d heard metal collide with Chenle’s body; the only question was where. 

He lifted Chenle’s shirt first, long fingers prodding at smooth skin until Jisung was sure nothing had happened. Next was his neck, clear and blemish-free. He considered for a moment checking over the boy’s legs, but removing an article of clothing complicated enough to get off -- let alone back on -- didn’t seem like a smart move. Instead, he rolled Chenle over onto his back, cradling his limp head as it lolled to the side. 

“Oh, shit,” Jisung sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Chenle’s chest. The mud, while caking the shirt a nasty brown, took a back seat to the blood, soaking it red. “Come on, Lele, you’ve gotta keep one outfit clean.” Jisung tried to joke, but his panic was drowning out any thoughts, not surrounding what could be under the fabric. 

He pulled the rest of the shirt up to Chenle’s neck. A long, shallow slash was engraved on the boy’s collarbone, blood seeping sluggishly out and onto his torso. Just below it was a nasty purple bruise. Jisung acknowledged the injury as the origin of the metal against flesh sound and pushed the worry away. He needed to focus on the external bleeding first. 

Jisung dropped his bag on the ground and ripped it open, his hands grappling for anything he could use to stop the bleeding. He found a spare shirt, one that had long been too stained to wear, and quickly pressed it to the wound. He tried to will his hands to stop shaking, but the more the stained shirt turned red, the more panic he felt.

“I’m pretty sure he’d be dead if it wasn’t for you,” Jisung turned to see Renjun leaning against the side of the building. He was holding a first-aid kit, the stitching supplies almost glinting in the light. 

“Please,” Jisung said.

“Oh, you need this?” Renjun said, bitterly. “Let me wait until the last second.”

“Renjun, if you have a problem with me, then deal with it with me!” Jisung bit, pressing too hard on the shirt in his anger. Renjun just scoffed and walked forward, shoving Jisung away without a moment of regret. 

“Are we still pretending I have no reason to have a problem with you?” Renjun asked, meticulously stitching the wound. Jisung rolled his eyes.

“Have we ever?” Jisung asked. It had been almost a full year since the incident with the AED, and Renjun had never let him forget. If there was even a second of peace, Renjun always found a way to weasel in and remind Jisung why he should be groveling in the first place. 

“Jaemin thinks I need to let it go,” Renjun said, wiping his bloodied hands off on his own pants. “Everything was fine.”

“Obviously it wasn’t,” Jisung said, clenching his teeth. Renjun glared, cutting the last piece of the stitching. 

“No one else had to see what I saw every damn time I died,” Renjun bit, trying to seem intimidating. Jisung stared, watching the way his old friend’s lips wobbled. Jisung knew about Renjun’s dreams. He knew that Renjun had seen friends they’d lost, that he had to answer to them for his ‘carelessness.’ 

Jisung knew that Renjun felt guilty. He felt as if he was living on borrowed time, that he should be long gone and buried. Someone else should be in his place, and since they aren’t, he has to live for them. 

Jisung, in his humble opinion, thought that was a load of bullshit. 

“If you were meant to die, you would’ve,” Jisung told him. Renjun laughed, devilish, and angry. 

“I would’ve if it had been up to you,” Renjun said. Jisung leaned forward and pulled Chenle’s shirt down, covering the wound. 

“I didn’t shoot you, Renjun,” Jisung said.

“No, you just left the one thing that could’ve saved my life in the living room,” Renjun shrugged, settling himself uncaringly into the mud puddle below him. 

“Mark was there too,” Jisung said, using the exact excuse that caused Chenle to walk out on him. Renjun stared at him for a long time, their eyes locked. 

“You know, Chenle would lose his mind without you,” Renjun said, seemingly changing the subject. Jisung didn’t respond. “You’re walking a really, really dangerous path. Keep doing it, Jisung. Keep on letting other people take the fall, and see how many people will rush to your side when you need it.”

“I did not shoot you, Renjun,” Jisung bit, fists clenched at his sides. It seemed like no matter how many long strides he took, Renjun was always there to remind him where he started. 

“Would you?” Renjun turned so suddenly it gave Jisung whiplash. The smaller boy shook, his hands dug deep into the mud. “Who’s above me on your piece of shit list, Jisung? Who would I have to be next to for you to let me live?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jisung shouted, not noticing the twitching eyelids of the boy in between them. “I don’t have a list, you idiot! I would never--”

“Stop lying! You would!” Renjun yelled. “And if it’s not me, then who is it? Jaemin? You can’t live without Chenle, but you’d make us live without each other?”

“No, will you shut up!” Jisung screamed, voice breaking. Renjun backed up, nostrils flaring. “I get where you’re coming from, okay? I get it. But I would never do the shit I did back then. I don’t care who it is, if someone needs me, I’ll be there. You don’t have to trust me, but stop throwing that at me as if I haven’t already realized.”

“I don’t trust you,” Renjun nodded. He closed his eyes, pulling deep breaths in to try and calm himself. “I love Chenle. He’s always been by my side through everything, even before this. I’m glad he has someone looking out for him.”

“And it doesn’t excuse what I’ve done,” Jisung parrots, having heard the same speech from everyone at some point. He wondered if Mark had gotten even half the lectures. 

Jisung wondered if Mark would ever admit that he had been the one to leave that AED. That Jisung had just been listening to him. 

_“Chenle probably needs you, leave it.”_

He did. He left it. Sitting on the tattered, broken couch that the last owners had left behind. Chenle had ended up needing him, and Donghyuck had needed Mark, but Renjun had needed them more. 

Jisung had almost let Renjun die, but it hadn’t been all his fault. Of course, no matter how much blame he took, it never got any better. Renjun and Jaemin didn’t trust him, he and Chenle were strained, and Jeno could barely look at him. 

Don’t doubt that Mark got all the trust in the world, despite what he’d said. Even though there must have been someone who heard it. What was the point in trying to explain it? The second the words left his mouth, Chenle was out of the room. 

“Jisung,” Renjun’s voice was fearful when Jisung came back to himself. He looked up, shocked to see Renjun backing away from him with tears falling down his face. Jisung’s hand gave a sharp twinge, and when he went to check why, he saw the rivulets of blood running from his knuckles down to the wet ground. 

Mud had splashed everywhere. Onto his own clothes, Renjun’s, and to his surprise, onto Chenle, who was looking at him with the same fear. 

“Are you here?” Chenle asked, shivering. Jisung didn’t know how to answer. 

He was losing it. His grip on himself, on his sanity, on his life. 

“Chenle,” Jisung said, strangled, coming up from deep in his chest like a wet, nasty cough. 

This needed to end.

+1.

They were in a dark, reeking room. The walls were piled high with sogging hay, and the ground under their feet was squishy and damp. Jisung’s legs had long since melted into the manure, his knees aching. It had been far more comfortable than the concrete, no matter how disgusting it felt. 

He couldn’t see well in the dark, but the sound of Jeno and Jaemin whispering could still be heard, and Chenle was still wiggling beside him. The only one he’d yet to hear was Renjun, but that wasn’t a shock. The man had been all but mute since their group thinned out a few years back. 

“ _Gēge?_ ” Chenle whispered. 

“Mn?” Renjun responded immediately. At least he wasn’t dead. 

“Are you okay?” Chenle asked, kicking Jisung in the thigh as he attempted to scoot. 

“Mn,” Was the only response he got. It was enough. 

It was hard to conjure up an origin story for what had happened. Jisung’s head hurt, and he had undoubtedly been out for hours. The sun had newly risen the last he remembered, and the outside was now pitch black, the only light coming from the moon looming above. No one had spoken up when Jaemin had initially asked what happened, leading Jisung to believe no one knew.

Time ticked by imperceptibly. At some point, Jeno and Jaemin had stopped talking, lapsing into a deathly silence. Chenle had stopped fiddling with the ropes binding his wrists together, his legs and arms barely grazing against Jisung’s right side. There was nothing save for the rustling of trees to tell him he hadn’t gone deaf.

“Sungie?” Chenle spoke up. Jisung turned to him, but it was too dark to make out his husband’s body. 

“Yes, _wangjanim?_ ” Jisung got a swift tap of Chenle’s foot for the endearment. 

“What’s going to happen to us?” Chenle asked. Jisung settled himself against the bale of hay behind him as he considered. 

“You’ll be fine,” Jisung said, continuing to wrack his brain for clues. No matter what, Chenle would make it out. They hadn’t made it that far just for it all to end at the hands of a vile group of humans. 

“Sure I will, sweetheart,” Chenle said, and Jisung could hear the lilt of sarcasm in his tone. 

“Have I ever failed you before?” Jisung asked, not entirely wanting an answer. He was very aware of his wide-ranging failures. 

“I’m still here, so I suppose not in that context,” Chenle replied. Jisung wanted to scoff, but he knew Chenle was right. 

It took a few hundred ticks of a distant clock before Jisung realized Chenle was done speaking. Without much else to do, Jisung was lost in counting the clicking, another thousand passing before his husband’s soft breathing became audible. Chenle had fallen asleep. 

Years ago, Jisung might have drifted off with him. A luxury he had taken for granted even in the early days of the outbreak. 

The sun had begun to rise again when Jisung heard the first signs of life. A bird chirping, a rustling in the trees, feet stomping up the gravel pathway. 

He lifted himself up to seem less exhausted than he was. Appearing weak in the face of an enemy was something he had little experience in. He used his hands, wrists chafing from the binding, to hold himself straight and dignified. The feeling of something dripping down his palms and into the ground below him sent a shiver through his body, but he quelled it as three people made their way into the building. 

The leader was shorter than the rest, long blonde hair tied up in a messy, mangled bun at the top of her head. Her face was dirtied with dirt and dried blood, eyes wide and mouth flat and drawn in. Her partners were both long-haired as well, ginger and matted with blood. Their faces were sinister and almost frenzied. Excitement? 

Jisung couldn’t tell if it was the hair or the clothes that brought the stench of death with them. Their bodies could have been bathed in the manure below him. His eyes fell to the knife held in the leader’s hand; the appendage blackened with filth, and the knife caked with dried something. Too chunky to be blood. Jisung decided he didn’t want to know.

“You are the leader?” She asked him in broken Korean. Another foreigner. They seemed to run into a lot of those. 

Chenle wiggled beside him, obviously awake but trying not to show it. 

“Yes,” Jisung responded after a breath. One of the men reached into his pants, pulling a small gun out and cocking it audibly behind his back. 

“Your people trespassed on my land,” The woman said. Territory, what an excuse. 

“It was a mistake. There are no boundary markers in the area,” Jisung said, trying to sound diplomatic. The feeling of Chenle shaking beside him was distracting. 

“I see,” The woman said. “I expected that it may be a problem. My group and I have created a solution for this, and we need your help.” 

Jisung felt his stomach drop. Somehow he didn’t think they needed help putting up a fence. 

“How can we help you?” Jisung asked, and the woman smiled at his obedience. 

She waved someone in from outside. In a second, Jisung’s world crashed around him again. In a third man’s arms was Lee Donghyuck, bloodied and bruised, tears streaming down his face. 

“Hyuck?” Jaemin whispered. 

“I did not ask you to speak,” The woman said. She smiled menacingly at Jaemin, waving the knife in the other man’s face. Jaemin backed up and put his head down, mouth pressed in a thin line. “You are not the first to trespass on our land. This one here and a few of his friends made the mistake not a month ago. You do still track time, yes?” She asked, looking between them all.

“No. We lost track of time many years ago,” Jisung answered. She hummed.

“I see,” She responded. “It’s a non-issue. The issue is that those of you with no survival instinct, no work ethic, no _brains_ , keep finding your way into our space. We’ve decided then-” She paused, trading her knife for a blunt, rusted sword from her companion. “To use those who trespass to mark the boundary line.”

Jisung kept his eyes off the sword and Donghyuck’s face. He stared at the woman, reading the tiniest of movements and the smallest twitches in facial expression. She made none. She had no visible weakness. 

She had done this before.

“This one will join the rest of his group. They will guard the western entrance into our sanctuary,” Donghyuck shook violently at the words the woman spoke. “You and your group will guard our northern entrance. First, we need to make sure that you will not be a hazard.” She said, lifting the machete up. 

Time stopped. A gunshot sounded loud through the barn. Jisung’s ears rang, his vision blurred and darkening. Donghyuck was lying in a heap on the ground, another body atop of him. Jisung had no time to think before someone grabbed him, a gun barrel digging into his temple. 

Jisung’s vision returned slowly. There, standing in front of him, was Mark Lee. He was holding a gun out, cocked and ready to fire. The man was screaming profanities at him, spitting and growling as he ordered Mark to put the gun down. 

“You’re outnumbered,” Mark said. Jisung refused to turn his head to see if the other was bluffing. 

“Put it down, or this one gets his brains blown out,” The man hissed, pressing the barrel ever deeper. Somehow, Jisung didn’t think they picked the right person to hold hostage. 

Chenle was panicking, screaming, and flailing as he tried to pick himself up. No one else was moving, eyes hard. Jisung idly wondered if he had really fucked up so bad that no one would come to his aid. 

“Shut him up!” The man shouted at the last remaining companion of the leader. He nodded and attempted to walk in, but Mark changed his aim. 

“Do it, I blow _your_ brains out,” Mark said. 

“That’s fine,” The man holding tightly to Jisung said. “A life for a life? Is that the game we’re playing?” He asked. 

“Mark, _please!_ ” Jisung heard Chenle yell. His best friend, his husband, his life. Laying there, tied up and hysterical. He thinks it would be a worthy sacrifice if Chenle managed to escape. 

“I guess so,” Mark said. 

“No! _No._ Stop! _Stop!_ ” Chenle sobbed, so forceful that he became deathly quiet as he exhaled. 

Jisung closed his eyes, thinking back to all the awful, horrible things he’d done since that time in the alley. All the people who died because of him. All the people who were hurt because of him. 

The man was hesitating, Jisung noticed. His body was shaking minutely, hardly enough to see if you weren’t pressed up against him. Weak. 

Two gunshots rang out at once. 

Chenle was screaming somehow even louder, his voice cracking with the effort. There was a struggle, lots of voices shouting over each other, and suddenly someone was yanking him up to his feet and shoving him along. 

He wasn’t dead. He hadn’t been shot. 

“We need to go before the rest of them show up,” Jungwoo’s familiar voice spoke to him.

“Chenle-”

“Will meet us there,” Jungwoo interrupted. 

“I thought you were dead,” Jisung said, finally opening his eyes to take in his surroundings. Blurry vision. The world could have been upside down, and he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. 

“They didn’t get all of us,” Jungwoo responded, shoving Jisung forward as he began to lag. 

“How many?” Jisung asked, not sure if he wanted an answer.

“All of us except me, Mark, and Sicheng.”

Jisung was right. He shouldn’t have asked.

A few hours later saw Jisung lying against the bark of a tree, holding his shaking husband as he wheezed through another panic attack. No one had come to check up on them yet. Still, in the distance, Jisung could see Jaemin limping back and forth, periodically throwing his gaze in their direction. 

Chenle had been inconsolable. He had refused anyone’s comfort as they cut him out of his bindings and led him behind the speeding Jungwoo and Jisung. He had tried to run to catch up with them, but Renjun had stopped him, or rather, tried to stop him. Jisung could still see the impressive bruise on the man’s upper arm. 

“Baby, I’m here,” Jisung said, pressing a kiss to his husband’s dirtied hair. 

“They didn’t even try to avoid you,” Chenle sobbed. “Sicheng could’ve shot you!” 

“He didn’t,” Jisung tried to soothe, but it didn’t work. Nothing seemed to work. 

“I don’t trust them anymore,” Chenle whispered into Jisung’s neck. 

“Chenle, you know why they did what they did,” Jisung said. Chenle scoffed, wiping the fresh tears off his cheeks.

“What, so they’re supposed to be as bad?” Chenle asked. “You’d think if they made such a big deal about it, they’d be better!” Jisung couldn’t argue with Chenle. He’d done enough of that in his lifetime. 

“I love you, I’m still here with you,” Jisung said, wrapping his arms ever tighter around his husband. 

“I need you,” Chenle sobbed, trying his best to straddle the man below him.

“No, not right now. You’re not thinking,” Jisung said, putting his hand on Chenle’s chest to keep him from moving anymore.

“I _need_ you,” Chenle sobbed, hand trying to sneak it’s way up Jisung’s shirt. Jisung grabbed the wandering appendage, pulling it to his chest. “Please, I need you. I need to know you’re here. Please, Sungie.” 

“I’m right here,” Jisung said, pulling Chenle’s hand up to his heart. “My heart is still beating for you. We’re not going to do it right now. You’re not thinking, and I refuse to ever take advantage of you.” 

Chenle whined but didn’t press. Instead, he laid his head against Jisung’s chest, ear pressed against where Jisung’s heart continued to beat. 

They lay like that until the sunset again, and plans had been finalized without them. They were to leave the next morning in search of a new place to call home. Somewhere far away from the losses they’d incurred, somewhere they could stay. 

Jisung looked down at his sleeping husband. He couldn’t let Chenle’s heart be hardened anymore than it already was. He was their light, and he was slowly getting dimmer. Jisung loved Chenle in all forms, but the Chenle he fell in love with was slowly getting farther and farther away. 

Jisung wondered if Chenle thought the same about him. 

“I told you, he needs you,” Jisung looked up to see Renjun standing over him. 

“I know,” Jisung responded, afraid of waking his husband.

“Please, go with us. We’ll find a place. We’ll be like we were before,” Renjun begged, leaning down to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Chenle’s ear. Jisung looked down at his husband’s sleeping face, so serene and oblivious.

“I don’t know, Chenle said he doesn’t trust the group anymore,” Jisung said. Renjun bit his lip and nodded. 

“I would’ve saved you. If I hadn’t been tied up, I would. I swear,” Renjun said. “If not for you, then for him. He needs you. He’d die without you.”

“I’m sorry, Renjun,” Jisung said, genuine and heartbroken for all the pain they’d gone through. Sad that their relationship had deteriorated so much. 

“Chenle told me. About Mark. You know, what he said,” Renjun said quietly, fiddling with a blade of grass. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jisung pondered an answer to this.

“I guess I just felt it was easier to take the blame,” Jisung came up with. Renjun smirked but shook his head. They both knew no one would have listened to him. That he had tried. That speaking those words were asking for a week of pure silence. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to die.” With that, Renjun was gone, back in the arms of idle observer Jaemin. 

Jisung settled down, tucking Chenle’s head underneath his chin. With Renjun and Jaemin still awake and keeping a watchful eye, Jisung allowed himself to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


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